Come Together
by Jason Gaston
Summary: Something is very wrong with the universe. Everywhere, strange new enemies and heroes are emerging as something is causing the legends of the science fiction and fantasy universes to collide in a meeting that threatens the very fabric of reality.
1. The Bigger Fish

Come Together

By Jason Donner

Chapter One – The Bigger Fish

**"What is our location?"**

Thousands of minds poured over assimilated star maps, information, and analysis done by those that now served the greater whole. The Borg Cube had suddenly, and with no fanfare whatsoever, found itself cut off from the calming orderly whispers of collective and in an unknown section of space. The Borg were not known for expressing irritation, but it flashed through the shared hive-mind of the gargantuan cube despite itself.

The encapsulated minds and reached a consensus given the information they had. The reports were broadcast to all of them in an order that bordered on the divine.

**"Wormhole undetected. No spatial anomalies present. No abnormal sensor readings."**

The collective poured through billions of options, some only minutely different from others, in the space of five minutes and twenty-three seconds. With no contact with the main Collective and the greater resources It offered, there was no other option.

**"We require an independent mind."**

A Borg drone designated as Thirteen of Thirteen of Unimatrix A Section 443-B-3321 was selected mere nanoseconds later. The appropriate programs and subroutines danced across the Borg circuits and molecule-sized chips that nanites had long ago assembled from her own body material. When she awoke, she was not a mindless automaton, but a single mind in control of the entire cube and all the soulless ones aboard.

Her first thought was the first thought of all those who had undergone the transformation before her. "I am Borg. I am unique."

The humans called her a Queen, but the label was insulting and so entirely organic. A queen merely commanded and in her current state she didn't command. She simply was. She was the cube, she was the four thousand three hundred and two drones aboard. She was sensors, engines, and weapons. It was as close to a Borg spiritual experience as they were capable.

A Queen? If those small organic minds only knew. She could use the power of the cube to obliterate an entire system as easily as someone else might move a finger. She was not a "Queen," she was a focus: a white hot point of concentration for thousands of minds, contained in her own brain was an ancient computer program incapable of being killed, incapable of being damaged. She was as close to complete and total perfection the collective had achieved.

The former Thirteen of Thirteen stepped out of the alcove she had been regenerating in and stretched her arms into the air, the station behind her going dark as she did so to conserve resources. Thirteen of Thirteen was one of the few drones aboard the cube who still had both of her arms intact and lacked the prominent implants on her head and face – one of the primary reasons the individual was selected for the task at hand. Line 3282739838728 of The Program stated that non-assimilated beings dealt with an intact drone free of facial implants better than one that had them. She would be efficient to prepare for her new role.

The line after that stated that humanoids responded more favorably to a female than a male. Even the Borg did not know why. It was irrelevant as was the humanoid notice of her sexuality which often proved to be an effective diversion.

The Queen arched her back and found, with no small measure of irritation, that her head was still firmly attached to the rest of her. This was not unexpected when the Queen awoke in a new body, but it still made her feel trapped inside a cage of flesh, a sort of claustrophobia that another biologic would never understand. If there was no dire emergency, she would have her head removed as soon as possible.

Before she brought her hands down, she already knew what had transpired… what she owed her new existence to. Borg Cube 2392-1832-137333 had been observing Species 628339, an unremarkable race known as Termians. Their bodies small, frail, and unimpressive, the collective had decided that they were not even worthy of biological assimilation and chose to wait and see if the primitive beings invented any technology that might be of use to The Collective. In the last seventy-four years since the hive discovered them, the only thing the Termians had invented of note was a moveable type printing press, something that did not interest the Borg.

However the humans, as the Borg had learned, went from a press to warp drive in the space of a few centuries. The Borg are as patient as they are powerful and they thought nothing of waiting to see what potential these Termians would reach. If they reached a certain level, the Borg would sweep in as they always did.

It is inevitable. We are Borg.

However…

The Termians were gone. Correction: The Termians were not gone, it was the Borg who were displaced. Through a thousand eyes and a million sensors, the Queen confirmed what the small collective aboard the ship had determined. They were not where they were supposed to be. One second they were, and the next they were not.

"How did this happen?" she asked idly, her fingers erotically tracing the contour's of drone's face as she slinked by him.

**"Insufficient information."**

The vocal communication was not necessary, but it was another line in the program that made interaction with biologics easier for them. "Are we within the confines of our galaxy?"

**"Negative. Stars patterns do not match those of the known galaxy."**

This was news she expected, but did not relish hearing as she walked down the narrow hot and humid corridor fogged with air-borne antibiotics to keep the organic bodies from rejecting the implants. A drone obediently stepped out of the Queen's way as she glided into the main chamber. The memories of her host body, now greedily held inside the metal jaws of the Collective, knew him as an Ensign aboard the starship _Kuyshu_. Now they were both Borg. An improvement for the both of them.

**"Further information attained. Matter structure quantum vibrations of surrounding gas and matter do not match those of Borg Cube 2392-1832-137333. Speculation: The Borg have been removed from native universe."**

Now that was unexpected. The Queen observed in her mind the findings of her precious drones. Thousands of minds working together in perfect unity and efficiency doing the work and conjecture it would take an entire crew of organics hours to do. The Queen felt pride, an emotion that swept through the ship like a gentle warm breeze. The drones felt it as well as they felt everything the Queen did. If they had been individuals, it would have been good for their morale.

Morale, however, was irrelevant.

The Queen issued a mental command and, like a million invisible tendrils, the sensors of the Borg Cube fondled the new universe they had found themselves in searching for anything that might give them a clue as to where they are and what they are doing there.

**"Vessels detected."**

The Queen saw them. One of the ships was only slightly smaller than the Borg Cube and the other… was impossibly large. The collective had never encountered anything larger with the exception of an occasional space station and the space probe V'Ger, but never a fully mobile starship.

Any other crew would have expressed awe and intimidation. The Cube simply issued the customary challenge.

**"We are the Borg. Lower your shields and surrender your ships. We will add your biological and technological-"**

They stopped.

**"Delivery Failure. Vessels do not possess known communication technology."**

Delving her consciousness into the cube's sensors, the Queen caressed the two ships with invisible fingers and finally felt the awe that had been denied her subjects. Never before had The Collective experienced technology so alien and the beings aboard…

What?

She had to run the sweep again just to be sure.

Humans.

The Queen's lips drew back, showing her teeth in what almost looked like a growl. Humans had thwarted the collective's rightful attempts to assimilate them and improve their lives by giving them the perfection that they offered and now they were here in this unknown place a universe away. Her quiet rage rippled through the shared minds of the hive. Her wishes were clear. The vessels were a mystery… the easiest way of solving that mystery would be assimilation.

Her drones answered in unison.

**"We are Borg."**

The Cube began to move.

--

The young officer drafted on Mallastair swallowed hard upon recognizing the heavy thuds of the boots as they came down the corridor and the repetitive hiss of the breather like a serpent. A chill ran up his spine, sweat appeared on his brow, and he wondered idly if his anxiety was the result of his Lord's mere presence or this strange mystical power he had that he shared with those in pursuit.

Darth Vader came into his view and stood at the entrance to the bridge of the Super Star Destroyer Executor but before he strode onto the catwalk, the Sith paused and turned his massive body towards the officer. Did he sense the discomfort that he caused his underling?

It was not only that Vader sensed the discomfort, he reveled in it. Fear, he knew, was a power far beyond that of even The Force. He knew it would keep those around him loyal, after all… this was the man who brought down the entire Jedi Order, the man who walked through the scorched halls of the temple, the blood of younglings on his boots. The very molten blood of an entire planet could not destroy him. Who would dare oppose the Dark Lord of the Sith?

No one. Not even in the scant decade since he had assisted Palpetine's rise to the station of Emperor. Not this officer, not smugglers, not pirates, not even the handful of Jedi still clinging to life in the confines of space.

It was the Jedi he was concerned with now; the troublesome remains of a decaying carcass still preaching their antiquated rhetoric throughout the galaxy. It was Vader's mission to destroy them. To wipe them completely out as he had countless others whose screams no longer echoed in his mind.

The extermination of those his ship now followed was something that he now only considered routine. His master would be pleased that less of these insects infested his galaxy.

And then Darth Vader almost stumbled. A disturbance in The Force caught him by surprise and his body felt jarred inside his black support suit. It felt as though someone had ripped a hole in his chest.

To an outside observer, he merely paused. Pain was no stranger to him now. Despite the allowances of the black support suit that kept him alive, searing pain jabbed through him with every step. Even though the pain old and covered with grotesque scars, it was still all he felt. He wished it upon his enemies.

"Lord Vader?" Grand Moff Tarkin inquired with a hint of counterfeit concern.

Darth Vader glared at him with those empty black eyes. "Have you boarded them yet, Tarkin?" he said. Although formed in that way, it was not a question. Vader already knew that the answer was no, but he felt it necessary to voice his growing impatience with the situation.

"We are close, my Lord," Tarkin replied. "I don't know what they did to those engines – Wookie engineering I would imagine - but we are gaining. We shall be in weapons range shortly."

Darth Vader said nothing for a moment as he watched the stars. "And what of the second ship?" he finally said.

Tarkin scowled. "Second ship, sir?"

Just then, an indicator light began to beep on a nearby station in the pit. An officer looked up from his post. "Sir, there's another ship out there approaching fast."

"Jedi insurgents?" Tarkin asked pointedly.

"No sir, I…," He looked at his readings again. "The configuration does not match- It appeared out of nowhere."

Vader could feel the dark side of The Force clawing at him as though it was an attention starved feline. Something about this ship was different and dangerous. It didn't belong here. He could sense… one. One person aboard. Only one mind on a ship that large? The Executor dwarfed the intruder, but for a ship that size to be captained by a loner was unheard of.

The mind was powerful, though. Vader could feel… her.

He could see the ship now and it was unlike anything even Darth Vader had seen before. A dark gray cube, it was adorned with naked pipes and inner workings with no regard for style or beauty. The cube was a behemoth.

And yet… it was not the cube that represented the most danger. It was something else.

"Warn them away," Tarkin ordered to the officers in the pit.

"Trying sir, but they are ignoring us. I'm not sure that they are receiving-"

And they watched the cube glide noiselessly past them and begin firing on the Jedi ship.

"They are attacking the Jedi!" Tarkin exclaimed with a thin smile. "They are on our side."

"Overconfidence," Vader spat. "Something is very wrong here."

"What shall we do?"

Vader hissed rhythmically. "Let us see what happens," was all he said.

--

On board the blockade runner, Jedi Knight Carv Dano was meditating in his cabin when his fellow Jedi, Bab Bonnie entered unannounced. The runner had only a skeleton crew since they had dropped off most of their human cargo on Alderaan. At least the youngling exiles – the ones who would have began training had it not been for the purging of the temple – would be safe there.

"Another ship," Bab said, "approaching fast."

"Imperial?" Carv asked unmatched tranquility. He had not moved from his meditations since the destroyer began chasing them. Bab knew that her associate was preparing for a very hard battle – possibly a last stand.

"They don't know," she replied, "I sense that…"

"I have sensed it as well," he said finally opening his aqua eyes. The gill slits in his neck fluttered as he ended his meditations. He seemed to float to both of his webbed feet. "One mind is in control of that ship."

"It's odd," Bab said, "I sense… as if it has our best interests in mind."

"The best interests of some are not those of others," Carv told her cautiously. "It was the best interests of the Emperor that led us to this fate." He stopped. "I have a bad feeling about this."

Bab nodded. "Something is very very wrong."

The runner was suddenly rocked by an explosion. Bab stumbled, but Carv remained solidly in one place as the deck under them heaved. "Those," Carv continued, "do not feel like good intentions." He removed his lightsaber from his clip. "We must prepare."

Bab blinked, "Are we going to be boarded?"

Between the words "be" and "boarded," both Jedi became aware of a strange high pitched noise filling the room. Two beings appeared in a swirl of green light, materializing as if they were ghosts. Both of them where a pale sickly white covered with a monstrous number of implants… as though a man and a droid were smashed into one singular grotesque being. The Jedi could sense dead souls rotting inside of them and a single unrelenting controlling mind.

**"Prepare for assimilation,"** said the taller of the two, a humanoid with a ridged forehead and a blinking implant covering his left eye. He raised an arm to them… an arm with some long device on it used, the Jedi guessed, for an unpleasant purpose. The thing approached them. **"Resistance is futile."**

It was then that the drone noticed that his modified arm was missing. Rather, it was not missing, it just wasn't where it was supposed to be… namely, attached to his elbow. The drone looked down at the smoldering implant on the ground. One of the combatants, a humanoid of a species the collective was not familiar with, had sliced it off with some sort of energy weapon that was also alien to the collective.

**"Humaniod species unknown. Weapon unknown. We will assimilate humanoid and weaponry."**

The monsters continued to advance until Carv saw no choice and sliced both drone's heads from their bodies. The invaders fell to the floor, their bodies sparking and writhing.

"Where did they come from? Where they cloaked? What are they? Techno-Guild?" Bab asked, prodding one of the beings with her foot.

Carv kept his saber at the ready, prompting Bab to do the same. "I do not know," he admitted. "No. Not Imperial. Something… different. Come, we are needed."

Bab and Carv ran to the bridge with superhuman speed creating a vortex of swirling air around the both of them catching loose paper in the vortex and depositing it down the stark white corridor. It was a speed that only a trained Jedi could achieve through years of intense training. Now, it was second nature to them – a skill that had helped both of them survive when the inexperienced had not.

They reached the bridge entry only to find it sealed by an emergency bulkhead. Bab and Carv could feel the screams from inside the Runner's control room, but could not hear them through the heavy steel door. Bab wasted no time. The rotting souls of the technological monstrosities were also on the other side of the massive door. Quickly, she activated her lightsaber and jammed it into the locking mechanism.

The steel twisted and grew white with heat as Bab cut into it with the blade. She felt pressure give way and knew that she had cut through the lock. Withdrawing her blade, she pressed a button commanding the door to open.

What they saw caught the Jedi off guard. There were a dozen of the mechanical invaders on the bridge. They seemed to be studying the controls and panels. One was interfacing with the ship's computer via strange tubular devices on top of his hand. Readouts that had displayed the Galactic Basic language were flickering to a green writing that the Jedi were unfamiliar with.

A moan caught there attention. Captain Bedsil was in the clutches of one of the invaders, the tubules were buried in his neck. Bab leaped foreword and with Jedi precision, sliced the tubules and kicked the invader away.

Bab picked the captain up, "Come captain," she said, "I think we'd better get you out of here."

"One of them…," he moaned.

"Sir?"

Bedsil looked at the Jedi, his face was as white as death and black filled his veins. "Help," he choked out.

Carv was now between Bab and the mechanical men. He waved his lightsaber, slicing through a chest of one of the manacing creatures.

"We have to go," Carv cautioned his associate.

"The captain has been…," Bab couldn't think of a better word, "infected by them. I sense… I don't know what I'm sensing."

"Grab him and let's go," Carv warned, "We have to get off of this ship."

Carv brought down his lightsaber on the next advancing cyborg. The blade careened harmlessly off of a green forcefield almost causing Carv to loose his balance. He looked quizzically at his saber as if to wonder if something was suddenly wrong with it. He looked at the creature then back at Bab. "We need to go now."

Bab hauled the captain to his feet, "There's an Imperial Star Destroyer out there!"

Carv almost laughed, "I'll take my chances with them!"

With the power of the force, Carv broke a piece of piping from the wall and, with an invisible hand, slammed it into the cyborg that had deflected his lightsaber. With a spark, the drone fell backwards and died.

"I am Jedi Master Carv Dano," he said taking a wild stab at diplomacy. "Identify yourself."

**"We are the Borg."** The remaining cyborgs answered in unison. They were slowly advancing on him. Carv felt his scales stand on end from the grisly sight. **"We will add your biological and technological distinctiveness to our own. Your culture will adapt to service us. Resistance is futile."**

Carv threw the lead Drone backwards by only a wave of his hand.

"You are obviously powerful, but you are no match for The Force."

**"The Force is irrelevant,"** the Borg replied. **"You will be assimilated."**

And it was then that the chill in his cartilage amplified for it was the force screaming at him and for the first time, Carv believed the Borg threat that the resistance of two Jedi was indeed futile. He backed out the door and with the Force power inside of him, commanded the door to close and lock.

Bab was waiting outside with the captain. "What did you find out?" she asked.

"Let's go," Carv said without emotion. He led his Jedi friend to the nearby escape pods that would have normally been used for bridge personnel. Carv activated the panel and the doors slid open waiting for their new occupants. Carv pointed to the captain, "Leave him."

"We can't leave him, he needs our help!" Bab protested.

"This man is already dead," Carv replied. "He is becoming as they are. We have to leave him or he will surly infect us as well."

Bab looked at the captain who had fallen into unconsciousness and put him down on the ground. "Sorry sir," she said softly.

An implant erupted from his face with the smallest trickle of blood. Bab turned away.

Carv had already boarded the pod as Bab joined him. "It was the right thing to do," he said.

Bab nodded, "I do not dispute that," she said, "I have just seen too much death in one lifetime."

Carv closed the hatch. He could see the Borg opening the bridge emergency door through the glass of the pod. No matter, soon they would be in space, safe from the Borg – though they would be sitting wamprats for the Empire.

His webbed hand manipulated the pod controls and the panel displayed a Basic countdown to launch. He flashed a smile to his friend which was odd as it wasn't something his species was known for doing.

The countdown continued. 5… 4… 3…

Darkness.

"What in blazes?" Carv blurted out. "The pods have independent systems, there's no way they could have blocked the-"

**"We are the Borg. You will not escape. Resistance i-"**

Bab slammed her fist into the intercom. "It appears they also infect machinery with their power. What now?" she asked.

Carv wanted to tell her all would be well. He wanted to tell her that he had a plan, but lying was not the Jedi way. Instead, without a word, he took the Jedi meditation stance with his legs folded and his hands on his knees and closed his eyes. Bab sat next to him, doing her best to ignore the thumping on the pod door. She closed her eyes and slowed her heartbeat.

"It was fun," Bab said as the hatch was breached.

Carv nodded and barely felt the piercing of his neck by a tube delivering microscopic poison into his body. He only wavered when he felt a cold female presence with a single message for just for him…

"Welcome home."

--

Vader felt the Jedi die… and yet they did not die. They became something else. Vader had long since considered his own soul too dark to consider interest in a curiosity, but this was different. The invader was still there – still in her cube which hung quietly ahead of the now stopped blockade runner. 'Who are you?' thought Vader.

"Lord Vader," one of the officers in the pit called out, "We're getting a signal."

Vader hissed. "Put them through, lieutenant," he said with a mild humor in his voice. At last, he would see the mastermind.

The hologram quickly spasmed into existence forming the green and black low-resolution hologram of a woman. Vader stood in front of it, his hands on his belt.

"I am Darth Vader," he said with a slight bow. The Sith chose the road of hospitality for it appeared that this newcomer could become a powerful ally.

"We are Borg," the Queen answered. She looked at Vader with mused interest, his black life support suit blinking and hissing, his legs and one of his arms not fully biological. She smiled at that. "We wish to improve ourselves."

Vader hissed. "It seems I owe you a debt of gratitude, Borg" he said, "You have rid me of my enemies."

"It is I who owe you a debt, Lord Vader," the Queen replied, "Never before have the Borg encountered Midi-chlorians. It will make us more powerful, unstoppable. Soon, all will be Borg."

Vader regarded the woman. "Possession of a microscopic life form will not make you powerful. You may possess all the Midi-chlorians you can, but it will be insignificant to the power of The Dark Side."

"Religion is irrelevant," she said with a smile. "Join us, Darth Vader. Become one with the Borg."

Inside his suit, Vader managed a smile that would be known to none but himself. She was inviting him instead of mounting an all out attack. This Borg woman was not about to risk taking on a Super Star Destroyer; a battle she would likely loose.

"Withdraw," Vader said, "or be destroyed."

The Queen's smile faded. "We will meet again…" The hologram flickered out of existence, but her final word was delivered with chilling precision. "…soon."

Vader turned to his gunners. "I want those ships blasted into dust," he commanded.

Instantly, the mighty blasters of the Executor lit up the blackness of space, unleashing an unceasing barrage on the cube and the Blockade Runner. The Cube took a few damaging shots before its shields adjusted but the Runner, still only partially assimilated was punished as entire sections were blown away. The Cube grabbed the ailing ship with a tractor beam and warped away from the attack.

"Follow them!" Vader commanded.

Tarkin stepped in behind him. "Helm, enter a pursuit course."

"I cannot," the helm replied.

Vader glared at the man who seemed to shrink in his shadow. "I…" the man swallowed. "They didn't enter hyperspace, Lord Vader," he said bowing in respect and submission. "They're using a method of acceleration that is unknown to us. I cannot track them." He closed his eyes and waited for what was probably going to be an agonizing death.

But Darth Vader was already walking past him towards Tarkin. He slammed his finger in Tarkin's direction so violently that Tarkin felt a slight impact from the gesture even though Vader was meters away. "Alert every ship in the fleet," he commanded, "to destroy that ship on sight."

"Yes, Lord Vader," Tarkin replied.

With that, Vader marched off the bridge towards his cabin. His suit was closing in on him and he needed time in his meditation chamber. Using The Force, he had brushed the mind of the Borg Woman and what she represented was beyond the Light and Dark Side of the Force. She represented the very destruction of everything in the galaxy.

An unseen hand caressed his cheek and a soft sigh invaded his ears. For some reason, he had fascinated this Queen and Vader knew that this would not be the final time he would feel her disturbing presence.

--

Pieces of the Blockade Runner had been smashed and several drones and potential drones had been lost in the last run in with the ship the Borg had learned was designated Imperial Star Destroyer Executor. Borg hungrily devoured very byte of data in the alien computers and learned everything about the adjoining sectors and worlds. The Collective (as it was) designated several worlds that were ripe for assimilation – Coruscant being the highest prize, but that would have to wait until the Collective's numbers were increased. Instead, an Imperial Fuel Depot and Anchorage approximately fourteen light years away was selected. ETA was three hours and fifteen minutes.

In the churning recesses of warped space and time, the blockade runner was systematically and efficiently dismantled, studied, cataloged, and absorbed. Certain technologies were discarded. The Borg, for example, found hyperspace travel to be an inefficient means of faster than light transportation and opted to keep the warp and transwarp technologies they already had. Blasters too, they had found, were not superior to phaser technology and the shielding that the runner possessed was laughable.

There were, however, hidden treasures to be found on the primitive vessel. The Jedi laser weapon the Borg designated as Technology 21102, referred to by the assimilated as a lightsaber seemed to defy all the laws of physics. Light was focused through a crystal and formed into a blade that could cut almost anything. There was also a substance in the medical bay called Bacta that held great promise and a fledgling technology known as carbon freezing that might come in handy.

Still, the Collective was no closer to understanding where they were or how they got there.

The Borg were scouring the last section of the ship when a single drone, who coincidentally was only that morning a Jedi Master named Carv, noticed a storage room door that for some reason had not been opened. In a microsecond, the drone relayed this information to the Hive Mind and received his orders to open the door by any means necessary.

Borg nanoprobes which had invaded every system the ship had, for some reason, not managed to grant access to this single room. Coincidentally, the Borg Drone who was once Jedi Master Carv was still in possession of a lightsaber and used it to slice the door panel open. Free of the locking mechanism, the door slammed open revealing two entities. One was a bright gold and raised his arms in surrender. "Oh! Oh! Don't shoot!" he wailed in a mechanical voice.

The smaller of the two was a cylindrical non-humanoid robot that wheeled backwards but bared a small electrical prod in defiance as if it was daring the creatures to enter their sanctuary.

The drone regarded the two for a moment. The Queen did as well. On her cube, she gasped in delight.

**"You will come with us,"** the drone told the two artificial, **"Resistance is futile."**

The golden one put his hand on his companion's dome which spun back and forth between him and his glistening partner. "Better to do as he says, R2," the golden humanoid said with a quivering voice.

R2D2 withdrew his puny weapon and rolled out into the corridor. C3P0 followed him.

As soon as they were out in the corridor, the droids were suddenly somewhere else, snared by a transporter beam and taken into the heart of the Cube. C3P0, having never encountered this technology in the few years he remembered being functional, was caught completely off guard. "Oh dear!" he shouted! "Where have we ended up!?"

It was a coincidence that the Borg drone who found them was poor Jedi Carv and a greater coincidence that the Jedi Carv had still had his lightsaber when Bab's had already been disassembled and studied. It was also a conscience that Carv shared his name with the action that he had taken with that lightsaber to uncover the droid's shielded hiding place that they had taken when the Borg first attacked.

The universe is a strange and wondrous place and it is very fond of coincidence. For example, those words uttered by C3P0 after being beamed into the Borg Cube, "Where have we ended up?" were at that very moment being uttered by a man a few dozen light years away named Felix Gaeta sitting in the C&C of a massive space vessel called Galactica whose crew were, at that moment, discovering that they were more lost than they had ever been

To be continued...


	2. A Great Big Bloody Mess

**Chapter Two – "A Great Big Bloody Mess"**

"Dammit!" Dare hissed as his leg became ensnared by a barbed wire fence. "Goddammit!" He had been running along at a perfectly good clip in the cool California moonlight when he forgot where he was – there was really no other excuse – and caught himself on the low barbed wire he had seen there so many times. Dare crashed to the ground, sliding every so slightly on the wet grass, the silver moon above mocking him for his foolishness.

Normally, in an intense foot race for survival, one didn't have time to reflect, so it puzzled and concerned Dare that he was doing just that. Perhaps this was that whole life flashing before your eyes thing he had heard people talk about. Idly, he wondered if his own victim's lives flashed before their eyes and that bothered him even more.

No doubt about it… he was about to die.

Quickly he banished that horrible thought of mortality from his mind and untangled the rusty length of razor sharp iron from around his calve and knee. The cuts went deep… very deep. He could feel the wire bite into his bone as he tore it loose. Severing a muscle was definitely going to slow him down to nothing unless he learned to walk on his hands.

Dare got to his feet and, hopping on his good leg, leaped over the short mossy stone wall that had guarded the cemetery for over one hundred years.

He remembered the one who sired him talk about the day they put it up, musing, "Now what good is that going to do? Do they honestly think we can't get over the wall or at least find a gate?"

Not that the residents of Sunnydale were that observant. A giant snake could rampage through the High School and the next morning, the only thing that would be on the citizens minds would be when the next trash pick up would be.

Actually, didn't a giant snake already rampage through the school already? The weirdness was getting somewhat confusing.

Dare quieted his breathing as he sank behind a large tombstone and then he stopped it all together to avoid making any noise at all. With no breathing and the eternal stillness of his already dead heart, it was the very quiet that had so shocked him when he was first turned and resulted in one of the most restful nights of his life. The nightmares he had since then were interesting, but he was learning to forget them.

Well, all but one. All but the slayer.

The funny thing about it was that he had spent an entire brain-killing semester of algebra sitting next to her. She was cute and everything, but never in a million years did he even consider that she was a one-woman evil destroyer. When he was informed of this shortly after his transformation into a child of the night, he laughed so hard that he literally peed himself.

Not from the laughing, but because of his bladder involuntarily emptying on account of his being dead. His sire told him not to think about it… that it happened to the best of them after they were turned. Dare couldn't imagine someone like Dracula pissing all over himself and had his doubts that it really happened. Perhaps the old man was just trying to make him feel a little better? Who knows… it was just something he didn't like to think about except for the fact that he thought he might pee himself again on this frantic night.

He could hear the footfalls coming and then the sound of two feet landing gracefully on the graveyard side of the increasingly ineffective stone wall. There was a small step and then another and then another; he could picture those skinny chicken legs that the other football players always laughed about behind her back gently creeping through the low-lying fog, he delicate little feet becoming wet with dew and stained with the freshly cut grass. A wooden stake in one hand and a compact mirror in the other, checking her face as she went.

Dare was no fool, though, and knew that the slayer was anything but small and frail, beneath that smallish figure lurked the heart of a warrior – a barely contained beast who would kill him without a second thought or one iota of mercy. It's what she did… she was a vampire slayer. She was THE vampire slayer.

And he, being a vampire himself, wasn't a fan.

Despite the fact that he was a large brutish man, - a former member of the football, rugby, and soccer teams - Dare knew that he couldn't overpower her, but he also knew that she was fond of keeping several pet vampires around. He was fairly handsome as his looks had gotten him quite a bit of post-game entertainment and, since becoming a vampire, more than an occasional meal from an unwitting person of the opposite sex. Perhaps he could charm his way out of this.

After all, his leg was almost severed… there was no where to run.

So he stood and plastered on the most debonair smile he could, making sure he wasn't showing his true vampire face. "All right, Buffy," he said, playfully raising his hands and looking as sheepish as possible, "I surrender!"

The smile disappeared from his face when he realized it wasn't the slayer at all. It was a man… a large black man with sunglasses and a very large sword. What in the world was someone wearing sunglasses at this time of night?

The man in shades drew his weapon and took a defensive position that was both beautiful and dangerous, his dark muscles flexed in this moonlight as he flexed his arms. His face never betrayed a single emotion.

"You're not Buffy!" Dare the vampire said, his shoulders slumping.

The mystery man thrust upwards with his sword in a move almost too fast to see and, before Dare knew what had happened he felt a sharp pain in his neck; almost like a paper cut.

"You must be psychic," he heard the black man say.

Dare started to say something, but never got a chance because that was when his head fell off.

His body stood for a moment, a daft headless thing with a blood geyser for a neck. One hand actually felt where his head used to be as if it was shocked it wasn't there anymore, before it fell over and burst into dust filling the air with the scent of ash, earth, and a faint aroma of brimstone.

Blade returned his sword to his holster and smiled a wicked toothy grin.

"My kind of town," he said.

--

"Buffy, would you be so kind as to tell me just what the hell is going through your brain?"

Buffy blinked through heavy eyes at Giles who had not only met her at the door of the library, but practically leaped over a table to greet her with a stern reprimand for something she had done. Problem was, she wasn't sure what it was she had done so the best thing she was able to come up with for a reply was, "Huh?"

He showed her a yellowed sheet of paper with writing – some demon writing, she wasn't sure – written in… She looked. Yep, written in blood.

"Don't demons have pens?" she yawned, "Just regular ink pens? What does it say?"

"Oh, well let's see," Giles dramatically adjusted his glasses and took a deep breath. "Dear Buffy, thank you so much for killing the heads of the Toraga Clan last night. They had ever so much fun getting disemboweled and do so love the gapping holes you put in their chests. Oh, by the by, we're going to kill you now. No hard feelings." He tossed the paper on the circulation desk.

"Huh?" was, yet again, all Buffy could muster.

"The Toraga Clan," Giles said stabbing the paper with his finger.

"This will be the third 'huh?'."

"This is serious, Buffy. I cannot believe that you slew an entire clan without at least telling me what you were doing. Do you have any idea of how much trouble this could stir up in the underworld?"

Buffy was staring at him with a partially open mouth.

"You- You have absolutely no idea what I'm talking about, do you?" he finally said, looking a little sheepish.

"Don't they have the word 'huh?' in England?" Buffy replied.

Giles made a quick nod of apology and fumbled with his glasses. He smiled nervously, "I should have realized that you wouldn't have been so foolish or mindless. After all-"

"Giles," Buffy said.

"Y-Yes?"

"I had a late night," she continued, "Would you mind filling me in? Cliff notes, please, I had to skip Starbucks on the way here."

"Running late? So you _were_ out last night?"

"Not slaying Tovarlala demons," Buffy said wearily making her way to a chair, "Some slimy little monsters. It was weird… they multiplied when they got wet. Hundreds of them after that rain shower last night."

"Never heard of that before," Giles replied searching his mental rolodex, "Did you…" He made a stabbing motion with is hand.

Buffy wrinkled her nose and shook her head, "Once the sun came up they kind of… melted. Incidentally, Giles… stop doing that. There are children present."

Giles immediately stopped making the stabbing motion. "Let me get you some coffee," he pulled a chair from the table for her to sit, obviously taking great pains to be courteous since he had started the day biting her head off for something she didn't do.

Xander and Willow walked in laughing about something as Giles slipped behind the desk to the percolating pot of java. Oz and Cordellia walked in a few steps behind them; Oz in his usual aura of unceasing calm and tranquility as if even the greatest hurricane couldn't phase him and Cordellia already rolling her eyes at something that had deeply offended her delicate sensibilities.

They gathered around the table, "We miss it?" Xander asked as Giles returned with a hot cup of coffee for his precious slayer.

"Missed what?" replied Giles handing the cup to Buffy.

"Oh, just the usual gloom and doom of how the world is going to end this morning," Willow said as she exchanged a look with Oz. Oz, for his part, smiled. Willow seemed to be the only one to get him to do that particularly since his curse.

"It's how I love to start my day," Xander continued. "Bowl of Cheerios, glass of OJ, and oh yeah… this is how we're all going to die this week."

"We're just getting to that," Buffy said taking a drink of the bitter treasure.

"Neat," Xander said turning a chair around so he could use the back as a hand-rest. "Hit us with it, Big Poppa!"

Giles flustered a little wondering if Xander had just insulted him, but continued anyway. "The Toraga Clan of demons was wiped out last night."

Xander threw his hands in the air, "Go Buffy! C'mon, fist bump me!"

"And what would be a bad thing," Giles chided him.

"Since when is a fist bump a bad thing? What are you, un-American?"

"No, the deaths of the The Toraga Clan!" Giles was starting to loose his cool again.

"Am I missing something here," Cordellia said with a sigh checking her makeup in a mirror, "when was a dead demon a bad thing unless it, like, blows up or something and showers you with goo?"

"Like you getting showered with goo would be that unusual," Xander mumbled beneath his breath. Willow slapped him on the arm for his remark, unsure why she was even making the effort defending Cordellia's honor.

"It's a bad thing when they are the masters of an underworld kingdom and benevolent masters at worst," Giles informed them. "They were practically clergy!"

"Buffy killed clergy!?" Willow squeaked.

"I didn't kill clergy. I didn't even kill demons last night… it was some army of tiny horny monsters" Buffy said scratching her chin and wondering idly if all of the guts from the exploding creatures had come off during her abbreviated shower this morning.

"Wait, what? I'm confused," Xander said.

"Oo," Cordeilla said, "Stop the presses! Xander's confused!"

"Remind me again why we invited her," Xander said pointing idly at Cordie who rolled her eyes for what must have been the eighth time.

"My point is, the Toraga Clan was the lynchpin in a very complicated underground empire that made peace with the human race over a thousand years ago and with them gone, there's nothing to keep their subjects from crawling out of every hole in the Hellmouth to take their revenge on every human being they see," Giles said, happy to finally explain everything and dreading having to explain it again when someone else didn't get it.

"See?" Cordellia said motioning to Giles who stood there panting in frustration. "Nothing confusing about that."

"What can we do?" Buffy said, taking an interest in what Giles was saying, "Who do I have to kill?"

"Killing may not be the best option."

Buffy whined, "But it's what I'm best at!"

"Diplomacy," Giles said with a raised finger, "is the easiest way to allay fears. If we let them know that it wasn't the slayer…," he stopped. "We need an intermediary."

"Why don't we send Spike?" Willow said bubbly.

Everyone looked at her. Willow seemed to shrink a little.

"Spike?" Xander parroted. "Are you insane?"

"What? Who said Spike?" Willow stammered.

"You did," Cordellia said. "Just now."

Willow plastered on an awkward smile, "Oh, oops… Sorry. I meant to say Angel. I could have sworn I said Angel. Sorry. Was that racist? I don't mean that all vampires look alike."

"Down Willow," Buffy said with a smile. "I'll go talk to Angel. I've got TA duty during this period, thank God. Hopefully, we can get this whole Tornado demon clan thing sorted out before lunch."

"It won't be sorted out," Giles cautioned, "until the real killers are found. Until then, we're sitting on a powder keg."

"This is bad."

Everyone turned their heads and looked at Oz who was sitting in a near meditative state at the other table, away from others were he could wallow in his serenity as his body wallowed in his sheepskin jacket. For Oz to comment on anything was rare and for him to say that a situation was bad meant that it had to be practically catastrophic.

"I'm sure it's nothing the Scoobies can't handle," Xander said with a shrug.

"What? No, I'm not talking about that thing you were talking about," Oz said. "It's something else."

"What?" Willow asked.

"I think I smell another werewolf in the school."

--

"This is awesome," Murton Dingle said as he and his friend, Tommy Dawkins, walked down the corridors of Sunnydale High School. "Do you have any idea of where we are?"

Murton was excited and, as so, he was making exaggerated hand movements, his black overspiked hair wobbling on top of his head as if it was getting ready to shake off.

"I think I got the general idea when you kept talking about it in the car ride over here," Tommy replied with growing annoyance. The two of them were on a roadtrip to San Diego, but Murton insisted on making a stop much to Tommy's chagrin for all he wanted was a normal roadtrip with his semi-normal friend without any werewolf business or weirdness intruding on his life as it had so many times.

"Sunnydale, California," Murton continued, "Home of-"

"A paranormal hotspot known as a Hellmouth," Tommy finished, brushing his fingers through his brown curly hair. "Why do I let you talk me into these kinds of things?"

"My charm and tenacity?"

"I will give you tenacious," Tommy responded. "What are we doing in a high school? When I graduated, I thought I'd never have to look at the inside of one of these buildings again."

"This Hellmouth has many openings into our world. Back home in Pleasantville, Philadelphia… and the great granddaddy of them all, most famously, is located in the library of this very building," Murton said apparently feeling very proud of himself.

"And I suppose that's why you want to stop at Disneyland too."

Murton went quiet. Tommy glared at him.

"No way," Tommy said.

"It's under It's a Small World,"

"No way," Tommy said again.

"How else do you explain The Black Cauldron?" Murton told him, "There was evil in that movie, Tommy! Dark evil!"

"Hellmouths," Tommy said shaking his head still not buying it. The Disneyland Hellmouth didn't help matters, either. "Murton, how do you find out about this crazy stuff?"

"I have my sources."

Tommy rubbed this bridge of his nose, "You got it off the internet, didn't you?"

"AND second hand information!"

"I'll be out in the car."

Tommy turned around, but Murton grabbed him by the arm. "C'mon, Tommy! I need you!"

"You just think you'll need me to save your butt just like I had to do in Roswell!"

Murton shrugged, "How I was I supposed to know that was a real alien!?"

"He had three heads!"

The school bell rang and Murton and Tommy watched as throngs of students emptied out of classrooms and into the hall. Being teenagers and having little or no regard for manners, they bumped into the two visitors quite regularly.

It was moments like this that Tommy secretly treasured for even though he longed to be normal, watching people pass him unaware of his amazing secret life made him feel more special than anything in the world. He cracked a half grin, watching the students breeze and push by and shook his head, "They all look young, don't they? Seems like only yesterday it was you and me and Lori and Stacy doing just what they're doing now."

Murton nodded his head and then sarcastically added, "Fighting evil, demons, aliens, vampires… Yeah, they're totally into that here. Why, I'd wager that blonde over there probably has wooden stakes in her purse."

Tommy rolled his eyes and shook his head. "You don't have to be sarcastic," he said.

--

Tommy and Murton entered the library and looked around. Murton squealed with delight as he skipped to the center of the empty room. "Circular design! I knew it!"

Tommy shook his head. "Huh?"

"Circular design!" Murton said again, "This room wasn't just accidentally built over the Hellmouth, it's a cork on the wine bottle of evil! "It was put here for a freakin' purpose!"

"Yeah, to hold books," Tommy said looking at a stack of books on the circulation table. His hand brushed over one… a book about mythical creatures that had an ancient etching of a werewolf on the cover. Tommy bristled at the picture of a sharp-toothed beast with blood dripping out of its mouth. His eyes drifted to another book that bore the title Vampyre and a piece of yellowed paper with red ink… No… The smell. That's…

"Blood," he whispered.

Murton, in the meantime, was inspecting the library and had just emerged from the stacks. "They've got some weird books in here," Murton said thumbing back to the bookshelves. "And from me, that's a compliment. Old books… like, hundreds of years old. They're priceless!"

"Look at this," Tommy said, calling his friend to him. When Murton arrived, Tommy indicated the books he had found and handed him the note written in blood.

"Someone's an avid fan of the paranormal," Murton said, "or they're just used to this kind of thing. There was a rumor in that supernaturals would be attracted to a Hellmouth, but it was in a post by a noob with no post count so I didn't think it was that accurate."

"It feels…," Tommy searched for the word, "comfortable here. Like I'm not so abnormal after all. It feels like… home."

Murton stared at Tommy, a little creeped out by his friend's apparent confirmation of the rumors when the office door slammed open causing the two of them to jump in fright. Giles entered with a stack of books balanced in his arms. "I'll be with you in a minute," he stammered as he sat the books on the desk. Murton quickly stuffed the blood note in his back pocket.

"Bloody Harry Potter gets thicker every book," Giles muttered. He looked up at Tommy and Murton, "Can I help you lads?"

"You're the librarian?" Murton asked, slightly raising an eyebrow.

"I am."

"Good, I was wondering what you could tell us about…," he scratched his chin in an exaggerated way as he was prone to do when he was trying to be suave. "…odd occurrences in or around this area."

"My dear boy," Giles said, "This is a High School. It is little more than an exceedingly elongated succession of anomalous occurrences instigated by hormones and supplementary teenage inanity."

"That has to be the most complicated sentence I've ever heard in my life," Murton said in awe.

Tommy sighed, "We're here because of the Hellmouth."

Giles stood like a statue, glaring at the two boys.

"See? Are you happy?" Tommy said, "Now I look like an idiot and this poor guy probably thinks we're going to shank him or something."

Giles stammered, "I-I'm sorry, what?"

"Shank," Tommy said, "You know… stab." He made the motion with his hand for added effect, but then realized that was probably not the best idea. "Not-Not that we are going to do that, sir. We just came in to see the library and its circular design and now we've seen it and we're going to go." Tommy took Murton by the hand and practically started to drag him to the door.

Giles nervously smiled. "Y-You're from out of town?" he said, stopping the two from retreating any farther.

"Pleasantville," Murton said, his ego balloon already burst.

Giles nodded, "You know…" he said trying to buy time for Buffy or one of her friends to come in the door, "I've heard of Pleasantville. Interesting… stories about that place. I read about them online. Some chap named Dark Wolf Keeper posts some interesting works of fiction in a paranormal blog one of my students keeps track of."

"That's me!" Murton squeaked.

Tommy looked at him. "Dark Wolf Keeper?" he said with such disgust and anger that his eyes actually turned yellow and a low growl erupted from his throat. Quickly, however, Tommy got his wolfly manifestations under control and cleared his throat with an exaggerated cough. "Sorry," he said, "sore throat."

"Oh, you're him?" Giles said pointing at Murton. "Obviously, I'm somewhat of a supernatural buff, so to speak," he said waving a hand over the collection of books on the circulation desk. He noticed a Harry Potter book and swiped it into the floor.

"I am he," Murton said, his pride making a miraculous recovery, "I am the Dark Wolf Keeper."

Tommy kicked the back of Murton's leg, causing him to stumble. "Oh, sorry Dork Wolf Keeper!" he said, taking little effort to hide his irritation.

"How fascinating!" Giles said, rubbing his hands together, "I would be so interested in hearing about some of these occurrences first hand."

"Oh!" Murton jumped at the chance, "I'd love to. And, if you have any, I'd love to hear about the supernatural happenings of Sunnydale!"

Giles motioned to the chairs in the center of the room. "I would be delighted."

As Murton began to regale him with tales of the unbelievable, Giles was careful not to let his two guests see him checking his watch since, one, it would be rude and, two, he wasn't sure if these two strange visitors who knew about the Hellmouth would have him killed if they knew that he was slowly biding his time (and wasting theirs) waiting for the return of his prized pupil… or at least Xander who could listen to these asinine stories of living statues and Sorority house covens in his stead.

--

Angel leaped into the air, barely dodging a bullet that passed so close to him that he could feel the heat of the projectile across his face. He jabbed a leg up against the wall and launched himself into a dive, striking his attacker with two clenched fists. The gun slid across the floor and under a couch.

The black man in sunglasses flew backwards into a wall, cracking the stone behind him in a move that would have shattered the spine of a normal human. Angel's attacker simply pulled himself free of the man-shaped impression in what used to be fine marble and cracked his neck by turning it slightly.

"Who are you?" Angel demanded. It was only a few moments ago that Angel was enjoying a quiet morning in his home reading a book when this maniac crashed through the window and started to fight him for no sane reason.

The black man snarled, "You know who I am."

"Pretty sure I don't," Angel replied. He took a decorative sword from the wall and took a defensive posture. "How about we talk about this, huh?"

Blade took his sword from his holster and sliced the air a couple of times, making a metallic whipping sound. Angel could tell that the blade of the weapon was extraordinarily sharp to make that type of a sound.

"All I want to know is where the eggs are," Blade shouted at him.

"What eggs?"

"Your little patsy told me all about you 'fore I dusted him," Blade said. "Now, are you gonna start talking or am I gonna have to start cutting?"

"I'm fairly certain I don't have a patsy," Angel said.

Blade leaped at Angel who deflected the sword with a tight turn. Unfortunately, Blade's sword lopped Angel's in two, causing the severed blade to clatter on the stone floor. Angel looked up at Blade who smiled.

"Nice sword," Angel said.

"Take a closer look."

Blade came at him again, but Angel was ready this time. Recognizing that his foe was overly dependent on his weapon, Angel contorted his body around the metal and delivered a jaw-crushing elbow punch to the left side of Blade's face. He grabbed Blade's arm and brought his knee up into Blade's elbows.

Blade merely grunted as that was apparently the extent to which he was willing to show pain, but the shock to his limbs was sufficient to cause him to release his weapon which clattered to the ground.

Angel allowed himself a small inner victory, but it was to come with a price as Blade swung his leg around Angel's and the two of them thudded to the ground. Landing on his back and with Blade crushing his front, the air burst from Angel's chest and he saw stars. Blade smashed his forehead against Angel's, sending him into a stupor.

Thankfully, though, Angel had the presence of mind to push Blade off of him with his legs. Blade fell onto his back as Angel scrambled to his feet, still seeing flashes of light in his eyes and so dizzy he thought he would fall to his knees. It was only through sheer will he was able to stand at all.

Through the haze, Angel realized that Blade had retrieved his sword and was coming at him again. There was no other choice. Angel twisted his body again and clenched his teeth in pain as Blade's sword plunged into his chest. He could feel the blade slice into his lung and bite into a rib. Blade must have realized that his blow missed his opponent's heart because he tried to shove upwards and cut Angel like a roast.

Angel, drawn out of shock by the influx of tremendous pain, socked Blade in the nose causing a small geyser of blood to splatter in all directions. Angel couldn't help but smile that he had finally, at least, broken those damn sunglasses as well.

Not that he used it much, but Angel could feel his left lung filling with fluid. He grabbed the sword by the hilt and painfully pulled it from his chest. Angel realized that the handle contained some sort of mechanism and let go just as a deadly series of blades erupted from it, something that would have cost him a hand had he not noticed it.

Blade, in the meantime, was growling in fury holding his face. His nose had been shattered almost as much as his pride. "You broke by goddamn shades!" he yelled.

Angel indicated the sword still poking out of him, "You stabbed me!"

"You got a point."

"I got a point all right," Angel muttered. "Listen, you want to at least tell me who you are before we kill each other? I mean, this is awfully pointless; no pun intended."

Blade regarded him.

"You're a vampire, but you're out in the sun," Angel said. "You wanna tell me what's up with that?"

"Daywalker," Blade said.

Angel blinked, "I thought you guys were mythical."

"I ain't no myth," he answered.

"Obviously," Angel said as he pulled the sword completely out of his chest. "Myths don't hurt this bad."

Blade narrowed his eyes and peered at Angel. "I'll be goddamned," he said with no small measure of facination. "You've got a soul, don't you?"

"You couldn't notice that before turning me into a pincushion?"

"That sonuvabitch told me you were in on the…" He stopped and then Blade smiled in recognition, "Angel…"

Angel looked at him, "You know my name?"

"I had a friend a while back," he said, "Vampire hunter by the name of Whistler. Mentioned your name a couple of times. Apparently, he was keeping tabs on you. Thought you were in New York."

"I haven't been in New York for a couple of decades," Angel replied, letting himself to sink into a chair and hoping that he wouldn't bleed on the leather too much. "I heard the Daywalker was supposed to be a good guy."

Blade picked up his sword and holstered it, taking note of the fact that Angel allowed him to have a very devastating advantage should he choose to attack. This guy was either a good judge of character or very stupid. "I was following a lead," Blade told him.

"This lead have a name?"

"Some suckhead named Frank had dealings with the people I'm after," he said, "said you were the head honcho vampire of the area and that you was in on it."

"Frank told you I was a head honcho vampire?" Angel blinked, "What a jackass. What, did he tell you this after you promised to let him go?"

Blade pressed his lips together, "Yeah, but if it makes you feel any better, I didn't keep my promise."

"It does, actually."

"Sorry about…," he pointed at the hole in Angel's chest.

"What? This?" Angel waved him off, "barely feel it."

"Name's Blade," the daywalker told him, "I'm passing through looking for a cult."

"Got plenty of those here," Angel said. "What kind of a cult is it?"

"They worship someone called The Master," Blade answered.

Angel sat back. Even in death, The Master still seemed to inspire nothing but evil. Blade apparently saw it in Angel's face. "I see you heard of him."

"Sunnydale was his last home base," Angel told him. "We killed him here."

"That's the problem," Blade said.

Before Angel could ask what he meant, Blade was almost out the door.

"Blade," Angel called to him.

Blade stopped at the door, but didn't turn around.

"If this involves The Master, you're going to need help," Angel said.

Blade crossed his arms and didn't say anything.

Angel sighed, "All right, so your not much into getting help… I'm fine with that, but there are a few rules you have to follow while you're in Sunnydale because there is a higher authority here you may have to answer to."

"Oh my God, Angel!" Buffy's shrill voice echoed through the room. She ran to Angel and grabbed him for dear life.

"And that's her," Angel said tilting his head towards Buffy.

"Angel, who did this to you?" Buffy asked.

Blade raised his hand, apparently amused by the arrival of the 'higher authority' in the form of a teenage girl. "My bad," he smiled.

Buffy had made sure that Angel was okay and turned to face his attacker, "So help me, God, if you hurt him again…"

Blade bent down so he could look her in the eye and smiled, "You'll do what, baby?"

Angel could have warned Blade what was going to happen next, but he chose to delay that warning by a half a second allowing Buffy to ram the base of her palm into his already broken nose and swing her foot around catching him in the gut and propelling him into a butt-skid and a bone-jarring crash against a wall.

"I'll do that," Buffy snarled.

"Buffy," Angel said hobbling between the two, "This is Blade and… he's a good guy."

Buffy bit her bottom lip as Blade picked himself up. "Sorry," she said, waving to him ever so slightly. She looked at Angel, "You could have said something."

"Buffy," Angel replied, "He stabbed me with a sword."

--

It was the end of the school day and the final bell had just tolled on campus. Giles was resting his head on his hand and, despite trying not to look extraordinarily bored, he wasn't succeeding very well. In fact, the boy with the brown hair, Tommy, had already told Murton several times, "Murton, you're boring the guy. Let's just go." To which Giles would laugh and say, "Nonsense! This is fascinating!"

Murton was recounting a story about some kind of a ghost or demon who lived in old educational movies when the doors to the library opened and Cordellia entered. Despite the fact that it was potential help, Giles cringed on the inside. "Cordellia!"

"I'm just here looking for the back of my earring I dropped this morning," she said giving Giles the hand, the universal teenage symbol not to talk to her. Giles was rather taken aback that she would give him, an adult, the hand but chose not to deal with it.

"Cordellia," he said, "I was wondering if you knew were Buffy was."

"I would have to care first," she sighed.

"That's a shame," Giles said, his voice getting harder, "because these two boys here have the most fascinating supernatural stories that I'm sure she would have to hear." Giles nodded at her as if to ask her if she understood.

Being Cordellia, of course she didn't. Instead, she found herself drawn to Tommy who looked almost as bored as Giles did. "Hello salty goodness," she said walking past Giles and up to him. "Hi," she extended her hand, "Cordellia Chase."

"Tommy Dawkins," he replied taking her hand and shaking it. Dear God, he was dreamy.

Murton waved, "I'm Murton!"

"Don't care!" Cordellia said, still smiling at what she assumed was her future ex-boyfriend.

"Cordellia, will you please be a dear and please find Buffy and tell her that a need her?" Giles said again.

"God, Giles," Cordie said throwing her hands in the air, "if you need any help with these two, you could ask me first!"

Giles buried his face in one hand.

"I mean, seriously, why does it always have to Buffy? Buffy this and Buffy that! You know what? Buffy may be A-1 head honcho super-chick around here, but Cordellia Chase can deal with anything that you can throw at me!" Cordellia took a deep breath and, her eyes going wide, she wrinkled her nose in disgust. "Did one of you guys fart?"

Suddenly, she found herself yanked backwards by an invisible hand. A very large knife appeared out of nowhere and pressed itself against her throat. She tried to scream, but a hand covered in scales and smelling of excrement covered her face and cut that cry for help off. The smell was so horrid that she thought she was throw up.

Tommy and Murton ran to her, but Giles stopped them. "No!" he screamed. "It's a Toraga!"

"A Toyota?" Tommy said tilting his head.

Murton was beside himself in excitement, "A Toraga! A chameleon-like demon known for living in the underworld and emitting the smell of feces!"

Tommy was shocked, "How did you…?"

"," Murton replied, "those internet sources you were so pithy about earlier."

Cordellia was turning several shades of green. Her attacker was still invisible, save for his arms. She moaned and heaved as though she were about to vomit from the smell.

The pitiful moan was all it took for that look to cross Tommy's face; that look that said that he was through playing on the sidelines. His eyes furrowed and a deep growl escaped from his throat. He flashed his teeth which elongated and grew sharp. Murton was always awed by Tommy's protective streak more than anything. His friend might be a werewolf with all of the great power that came with it, but at the end of the day all Tommy cared about was his fellow human beings and that made him the greatest hero of them all.

Giles didn't even notice the change at first and only turned when Tommy roared, his transformation complete. It wasn't the drastic transformation that afflicted poor Oz, but rather a werewolf compliment to the human form. Tommy still remained upright, but sported wolf ears, fur, and yellow eyes – eyes that looked like they belonged to a demon but still managed to communicate his heart and humanity. On each furry hand, black claws were poised and ready to attack.

"So," a disembodied voice said. It was deep and didn't come from the being that held Cordellia. "You are well protected, Watcher." Obviously, there were more Toragas in the library, keeping hidden in their camouflage and blending perfectly into the background.

Murton's eyes went wide and be mouthed the word, looking across at Giles. Obviously, the term used to describe the librarian meant something to him.

"Just let her go," Tommy said, flashing his teeth. Giles noted that Tommy still held his intelligence, another advantage over Oz.

"Please," Giles said, "there's no reason for this."

A female voice joined in the conversation, "Your slayer murdered the heads of our clan."

"It wasn't her!" Giles protested.

"No one else has that kind of power. It could be no other," a new voice boomed. How many of them were here?

"You have my word as a man and a watcher," Giles cried, "Buffy was not involved."

Something socked Tommy in his back and he lost his balance, taking a few awkward steps foreword.

"And what of this one?" the female hissed.

Tommy growled, "Lady, I just got here and have no idea what's going on."

"Know this, Watcher," the baritone rumbled, "the Toraga will have our pound of flesh."

Whack! There was a meaty slapping sound from the back of the library as Buffy entered in her usual dramatic fashion. She had leaped in from the back door, somersaulted over the upper level, and smashed her heels into the head of one of the invisible Toranga's. As it fell unconscious, it dropped its camouflage and thudded to the floor, a red and black striped reptilian with protruding incisors and frills around its neck.

"Why settle for a pound when you can have a hundred and ten?" Buffy asked.

"A hundred and twenty is more like it," Cordellia said struggling, her mouth working loose from the grip of her captor just long enough to deliver a cutting comment. "Now will someone please get this nasty thing off of me before I hurl?"

No sooner had Cordellia made her request; Tommy leaped the distance between himself and the demon holding her hostage and landed a clawed fist right where he assumed the monster's head was. He was correct and he felt the creature's jaw snap at the impact.

With his other hand, Tommy grabbed the demon hand with the knife and pulled it away from Cordellia's neck, freeing her and allowing her to fall out of the way as Tommy twisted the demon's arm around, sending him into a backwards flip. The impact against the floor broke the demon's concentration and rendered him visible.

No sooner had this happened, Tommy was again struck from behind by one of the demon's friends. He flew off of the demon he had just defeated and slid across the polished floor, ramming up against a steel cage that was against one of the walls. He tried to stand, but was hit yet again and thrown into the cage. An invisible hand locked it before he could recover and sealed him away from the fight.

Murton had taken the opportunity to pull Cordellia under the table where the two cowered together,

Buffy, in the meantime, was fighting two… possibly three of the invisible Toragas at once. She had managed to get a bead on the first creature after listening in for a few minutes, but now it was a completely different situation and she didn't have the first clue where they were or when they might strike next.

She finally managed to hit one in what she assumed was its shoulder to pay it back for the dozens of hits she had already received. Two of the Toragas were down – one by her and one by the new guy, whoever he was – but there could be three, four, maybe even five left in the library.

Giles stood on top of the table with his hands raised, "Please," he said, "there's been an awful mistake! Can we just talk about this!?"

A heavy blow rocked Buffy off of her feet. She scrambled backwards finally realizing that she had gotten in over her head. "You are lost, Slayer, ten of you could not defeat us."

Buffy grinned a wicked grin, "Well… Where am I ever going to find ten of me?"

The double doors of the library burst open. Angel and Blade marched in, both wielding swords. They held them up on their shoulders, ready to join the fray.

"Toragas," Angel said, "stand down and let's talk about this."

"The time for talk has ended," he was told by the female.

"Murton!" Tommy yelled out banging on the cage door.

Tommy's friend nodded and started to scramble over, but something knocked him backwards. A child's voice rang out, "Stay down, little human."

"Great, the whole family's here," Murton grumbled.

"One last chance," Angel warned. "Stand down."

"Blood for blood!" the baritone declared.

"Don't say we didn't warn you," Angel said. He looked at Blade. Blade nodded and the two of them put on a pair of goggles. Once switched on, it gave the two warriors military grade infrared vision and revealed seven demons in brilliant and colorful hues.

"Blade," Angel said, "you are officially my new best friend."

"You're just lucky we got Toragas where I come from," Blade replied.

The two of them charged the demons in front of them who, stripped of their camouflage, instantly lost all of their bravery and started to run. It was almost comical the way that they threw their hands in the air and ran as though they were overgrown cartoon characters.

Buffy blocked their retreat. Now she was armed with goggles and the nastiest mace that she could find on such short notice. "Oh, wait. I thought you wanted to talk to me."

The demons stopped and sank to their knees in submission. "Make our deaths quick, slayer, as you did our brethren," the female wailed. It was such a pitiful wail that Buffy felt pressure behind her eyes as they teared up.

Buffy brought up the mace but then let it drop to the floor with a clang. She walked over to the largest, the one she assumed was the leader, and offered him a hand. "I didn't kill your brethren and I don't want to kill you," she said, "and I won't."

The demon took her hand and rose to its feet. Slowly, it and the rest of its kind dropped its camouflage revealing themselves to the naked eye. Buffy, Angel, and Blade removed there goggles.

Giles rushed over, his face flushed and wet with perspiration. "All right, good. Good," he said. "Now, shall we speak?"

"First thing's first," Buffy said pointing in Tommy's direction, "who's that in Oz's cage?"

"I'm Tommy," he said, grinning a gigantic fanged grin and waving.

"He's nobody," Giles sighed with a wave.

Tommy swelled at the insult. "You're nobody!" he said.

Murton helped Cordellia out from under the table. Cordie fanned the air and coughed, "Can we open a window or something?"

Willow, Xander, and Oz ran inside. They practically fell over each other when they saw the Toragas and the visitors in their library. "Whoa," Xander exclaimed.

"We heard the fight!." Willow looked at the demons, Blade, and everyone with worried eyes. "Should we be running?"

"No, Will," Buffy reassured her, "I think everything's okay now."

"Why is there another werewolf in my cage?" Oz asked, sounding a little offended as though he were afraid of being replaced.

Tommy crossed his arms, "Don't mind me. I'm nobody."

"You chose to spare us, Slayer," the head demon said. "We apologize for this incursion into your domain and absolve you of guilt. Shall we over you a gift in atonement?"

"Air freshener would be nice," Xander said, taking note of the smell.

"No, no thank you," Buffy said to the demons, but then shook her head, "actually… if you continue to uphold the treaty and I'll consider us even."

She looked at Giles who smiled and nodded in approval. Murton was releasing Tommy from the cage who quickly reverted back to his human form to greet Buffy's friends.

"But what of the murderer?" the demon asked. "We cannot return to the underground until he is brought to justice."

"Let me guess," Blade said, "disemboweled with a gaping wound in the chest?"

The demons looked at Blade, "How do you know this?"

Blade looked like he had received the worst news possible. "Sounds a lot like some things I've encountered lately. Somehow, it lays an egg inside your body and its babies explode out of your chest."

"Ew," Cordellia exclaimed.

"It's pretty gross," Murton replied.

"No, the guys who smell like poop are still here," she said fanning the air.

"Some vampire doomsday cult have been spreading its eggs all over the west coast trying to get the species to spread and wipe out all life on Earth. Seems without their precious Master, they don't think that anything deserves to live. Don't ask me where they got them, but the point is these things make nests and birth hundreds of others,"

Giles and the Scoobies stiffened at the mention of The Master. The atmosphere of the library became deathly still, so much so that even Tommy and Murton who knew nothing of the situation felt a layer of serious dread blanket the room.

Blade stuck his tongue in the side of his mouth and cocked his head, "You ready for the bad news?"

"I love bad news," Buffy said.

"You won't love this," he warned. "This creature the cult is spreading around takes on the characteristics of whatever it grows inside. It grows inside a human; it's got two legs and two arms. It grows inside a dog; it's got four legs and runs like a dog. If it grows inside a demon…"

Giles' eyes went wide, "You mean to tell me that this… lifeform… it has created a nest in the very pits of the Hellmouth and is taking on the characteristics of demons?"

"Demons, vampires, werewolves… you name it," he said, "This thing was deadlier than anything I've ever seen before and if it's here…" he stopped. "We can't handle this alone."

"We'll help anyway we can," Angel told him.

"Us too," Murton said, speaking for Tommy.

"Dude," Tommy protested.

"Oh, like you weren't going to volunteer," Murton said.

"Well, yeah," Tommy said, "but you stole my thunder!"

"No," Blade said, "I didn't say I couldn't handle it, I said we can't handle it."

"You've been handling it alone all this time," Buffy stated.

Blade shook his head as he took out a cell phone, "Who said I was working alone, sweetheart?"

--

The vampire's name was Chip and, by astonishing coincidence, he had been one of Dare's linemen on the football team. The two never really associated beyond the playing field and, truthfully, they didn't even know each other's name and referred to each other as only "Number Ten" and "Number Fifty-Three."

Now, only a few hours after Dare had been relieved of his immortal coil, Chip found himself in a different situation that appeared to have much the same ending; that being a fairly nasty death.

Chip himself wasn't even sure how he got to where he was, namely firmly affixed to a wall and encased in some sort of black hard crusty shell that looked like it had been shat onto the stone walls of the cave.

The vampire coughed a little and idly wondered why his throat was so sore. In front of him, a large gray orb sat open like a morbid flower and there was also the smell… a thick and strangling smell of rotting flesh. Chip could hear hissing somewhere deep in the cave and knew that whatever it was possessed death itself as a companion.

Chip struggled against his prison, but was soon overcome with a wracking pain inside his chest as though something pushed against his ribcage from the inside with tremendous force. The vampire cried out in pain as tiny crawls scratched against his organs attempting to find traction for another push.

The hissing grew closer as Chip screamed. Around the corner came a large creature on two long legs, a serpentine tail whipping with a dangerous madness behind it. Slime dripped off of its black exoskeleton and elongated head. The animal bared a set of teeth in what appeared to be an awful grin that made the vampire fearful.

The vampire screamed again as ever rib along his sternum cracked and separated. His chest heaved outward.

The creature opened wide and, though its mouth there came a tongue and on that tongue was another mouth lined with teeth. That smaller mouth opened and a hiss escaped from it.

Chip's chest exploded and he felt something claw its way out. Chip barely heard the newborn squeal a birth squeal before his body burst into ash and disintegrated ending his brief immortal existence.

The new creature picked itself up off the ground and gazed up at the larger. It opened its mouth and showed off a pair of vampire fangs.

Poor Chip never learned that the creature wasn't from Earth at all, but actually originated in deep space. Its true origin and name had been long lost to history, but it had been called by many names in many languages. It was called a dragon, a xenomorph, a serpent, a beastie, and a bitch but one name stuck more than any others.

Alien.

But the alien was not the only one who was busy that night. For one thing, there was the matter of a small army who had assembled in the circularly designed library of Sunnydale High School: A vampire slayer, a vampire with a soul, a daywalker, and a big wolf on campus.

There was also the matter of a very large being with sawed off horns and red skin who was happily petting a stray alley cat on one of his outdoor escapades when his cell phone suddenly started to play The Theme from Shaft. The large brute stood, inadvertently frightening his new friend and causing him to run down the alley. A large red thumb pressed the speaker button on the phone. "What have you found out?" the red man asked.

"Sunnydale, California," Blade's voice answered. "This is the eye of the storm, baby."

"We're on our way."

The man's large hand shut the cell phone and placed it into his vest pocket where he retrieved a single cigar. He placed the cigar in his mouth and promptly lit it. Hellboy nodded as he took a long nicotine drag.

"I always wanted to go to California."

It turned out that the same phrase was about to be used by another agent. Not an agent of The United States Bureau for Paranormal Research and Defense, but an agent of Hell itself.

It wasn't that he wanted to be an agent of Hell, it just sort of happened that way through an extremely bad decision by his parents before he was born. Sam's soul had been promised to the Devil and, when the slacker who had never done anything substantial in his life and still worked in a bulk hardware store turned 21, the Devil collected by forcing him to become a bounty hunter; Chasing down, capturing, and delivering escaped souls back to hell.

This was done by using a mystical vessel which took a number of odd shapes for each adventure. Once it was a camera, once times it was a dustbuster, and once it was a lighter.

This time, by another astonishing coincidence, it was a cigar and, as usual, came with no instructions.

Sam sighed, a little bummed at the prospect of a mission so far away from home. "Well," he said to his two best friends, "I've always wanted to go to California."

"Man," Sock, his portly and somewhat unhygienic pal, said patting Sam on the shoulder as a show of support, "I'm sorry the devil is such a dick."

To be continued…


End file.
